Final Farewells
by IsOkayGood
Summary: In the Harry Potter Series, we only get to see the aftermath of one very, very important Halloween night. This is how one night changed the lives of some of our favourite characters.
1. The Honest Traitor

_As usual, I am not J.K. Rowling nor do I own any of the characters._

He had heard it as a whisper to begin with; a wizard and witch he passed in the street speaking in hushed tones. _The Potters._ Normally he would push aside any mention of that bloody prat and... _her_, but he couldn't see why on earth people would be talking about them when he was sure they didn't know who James and Lily were. Maybe it was that usual paranoia setting in, but that was inevitable in his situation.

Curiosity was going to be Severus Snape's downfall, though he'd never admit it. Ever since he had come to the realization that Lily Evans, his Lily Evans, could in fact be the mother of the boy Voldemort had set out to kill, his nerves had been a little on edge and his ears peeled.

Now he found himself unable to keep away; he had to know whether she was safe or not. The village of Godric's Hollow was always an unusually place, however on this night, it seemed dead silent. All the muggle children must have gone off to sleep already, which he supposed made sense; it was rather dark outside, though he had no sense of what the time was. He never seemed to know these things anymore, what with his various missions for the Death Eaters, such things became irrelevant.

He muttered to himself quietly, knowing out of all logicality Lily was safe, but he couldn't rest until he was absolutely sure about things. It was that sense of sureness which had kept him alive throughout this entire situation and he was not about to stop doing so any time soon. But as he rounded the corner, his heart sank; maybe it was both a blessing and a curse that he had come. Before him stood the quaint little cottage style house that he knew so well, except there was something different this time; instead of the usual put together scenery of the place, it stood now in shambles with the roof caved in. He swallowed hard, taking a few steps toward it. He had begged Voldemort to spare her, but something inside him wondered if the Dark Lord had kept to their bargain.

He wasn't sure how he had forced his body there, but before long he had found himself at the front door, which stood off its hinges. It squeaked deeply as he pushed it out of his way and as he took a step inside, he could hear the faint crying of a child.

"Lily?" His voice cracked as he whispered.

He knew he'd been too late when he looked down to find James Potter cold and unmoving; as many times as he'd wished exactly what stood before him, he never expected for it to feel so awful. Everything seemed to add to the one conclusion which he had feared most.

Stepping over James' body, he didn't even bother to shoot a glance backward. There was no point to it anymore; the past was long gone now. Taking a quick glance into the living room - a little toy broom laying on the floor – he concluded that she wasn't there and headed up the cramped stairs.

At the end of the hall, facing the stairs, another door stood partially open; he could already tell it's where the crying was coming from. Ever cell in his body was begging him not to continue, but he needed to know. Breathing deeply he approached the room, preparing himself for the worst.

"Lily?" he sobbed, frozen in the doorway. She was facedown, so there was still the slightest chance that maybe, just maybe she was only hurt, right? Collapsing onto his knees next to her, he turned her just the slightest to catch a glimpse of her face; he grasped her tightly, realising her eyes were cold, staring off to something she couldn't see.

Severus Snape was never one to show his emotions, but now was not a moment to act like he could handle it all; he could remember the one other time in his life when he had cried to the point where he couldn't see, which was the day Lily had broken off their friendship in fifth year. He knew this was the last time he would ever get to hold her and he'd be damned if anyone would pry him away before he was as cold as she was.

When he had finally reached his limit, when there wasn't enough liquid in his body to sustain his emotions, he looked up at the child with whom he had been crying with. Catching a flash of green in the boy's eye, right then and there, he decided it. Looking back down into the eyes of the girl in his arms, he vowed that even though he couldn't save the light that he loved so much in them, he would make sure that no one would ever do that to the child sitting in the crib next to him. She had always been there for him when he needed it most, and he would repay the favour, even if it took the rest of his life to do so. Though he knew himself well enough to know that he would never let the boy know so, especially considering it meant he was also repaying Potter, he would always be there for Harry. _Always._


	2. The Innocent Criminal

He had to laugh, walking up the street. James never did change, even throughout all the years he'd known him. Shaking his head as Sirius walked down the street, he had to admit, James _had _gone all out for Halloween this year; part of the building looked destroyed. He wondered how many charms it took him to get it to look like that. Hell, he had probably had to talk Lily into helping him. Prongs would have convinced her it was worth it – just to scare the kids – somehow.

Looking in the window as he passed through the door, he could see signs that they had returned from taking Harry out, though the lights were very dim inside. Not even noticing the door was open and off its hinges, he walked into the darkened, yet very familiar hallway. Then it hit him; it was dark, like a breeze had blown all the candles out in the place. James and Lily were some of the most cheerful people he knew, even in times like this, so it wasn't like them to leave the house dark.

"Lumos," he muttered, still unsure as to what was going on.

Then, by the dim light of his wand, he saw it: James was lying awkwardly in the hall, facing the ceiling. It took a second for the scene to register in his mind before he let out a small laugh.

"Prongs, you're a right git. You know that?"

Any second, James would jump up and try to scare the shit out of him; after all these years, he still enjoyed predictable, stupid pranks like that, though Sirius could never understand why. He rolled his eyes, waiting but getting nothing. James hadn't moved.

Taking a few steps forward, he furrowed his brow.

"Oi, Prongs."

Nothing.

"Jokes over." Still nothing. He leaned next to his friend's body, bracing himself for a joke that never came. Then it dawned on him and his heart began to pound. No, Peter would never...

He shook James, hoping for some sort of reaction, for anything. "Prongs... Prongs, you have to get up," he could hear his voice straining, though there wasn't a living soul to hear it do so. "This isn't funny anymore, mate."

The more moments that passed, the more he could feel his heart constrict in his chest. He knew James wasn't going to move no matter how much he begged, but he couldn't stop asking; if he did, he'd lose it. Well, lose it was bad phrasing; he'd already lost it, his best friend, his _brother, _James was practically his twin. Black and Potter, never saw one without the other. Sirius was a one without the other now and he wasn't ready for that by any means.

How was he going to tell Remus? James had been the reason they became friends with Remus in the first place, he was just as much a brother to him as he was to Sirius, and Lily... where was Lily? His breathing cut off for a minute; they had killed him, hadn't that been enough? Hadn't he lost enough in one night?

It was too late. He was crying. The great Sirius Black, the man who could break away from his own family without even giving it a second thought, the boy who could take a hundred scratches from an angry Whomping Willow and rowdy werewolf, reduced to tears.

He stood up and leaned against the wall; he wasn't sure he could hold his own body weight anymore. How could someone have done this? Of course, they were in the middle of a war, and the threat had always been there, hell he'd already lost more friends than he'd like to think of, but James and Lily were the kindest people he'd ever met. Who could ever have the heart to rid the world of people like them? He wished this was all a joke, no matter how cruel a joke that would be, anything would be better than the reality that faced him.

He wasn't sure how long he had stood there, reluctantly sobbing in the hallway where he had shared so many laughs, but when he had regained his composure slightly, he went upstairs. With all the energy he could muster, he hoped Lily and Harry had made it out. He couldn't bear the thought that they were gone too, that James' efforts to save them were in vain.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs he could hear faint crying. His heart swelled with a strange mixture of pain and happiness. Harry was alive! But at the same time, James wasn't there to share that happiness. A pang of guilt shot through him; Sirius would be able to be there for Harry, spend all that time with the kid that his own father couldn't.

Then his thoughts were interrupted by another, increasing the pain in his chest; Harry was crying. If Lily had him, he wouldn't be crying.

Quickening his step, he came across another nightmare. This all _had _to be a nightmare, but he knew it wasn't; he'd had that nightmare before, but it was never like this. This was too real.

Lily's body lay in an even more awkward position than Harry's had, as if someone had moved it. It didn't matter, though. She was still dead - he could tell that without checking too closely.

Turning his attention to Harry, he broke down again. He must have seen it all; both of his parents, gone, right before his tiny little eyes. Of course, he wouldn't remember that in a few years, but it must have been horrible all the same. But he couldn't do anything, he realized, no one knew they had switched the Secret Keepers. It was all his fault. He shouldn't have let them trust Wormtail; Peter had never been that reliable, but they had hoped it would make things safer. He should have known better.

Peter. He felt the anger rise in his chest. This was all Peter's fault. That stupid git. He looked at Harry, sobbing away in his crib while his parents lay dead; he was going to fix this as best as he could. James and Lily had saved Harry and Sirius wasn't about to let them die in vain. He would hunt Peter down, clear his name and become Harry's family.

This was all wrong. All of it. And he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try to make it right again.


	3. The Friendly Enemy

He was scared, in all honesty; with shaking hands and a weary mind, Peter Pettigrew hid in the shadows near his old friends' house. Well, he had once called them friends, but with the circumstances, he supposed that was a tad insulting now, after what he'd just condemned them to.

From his hiding place, he could see the deed had been done. He let a little shudder pass through his body before he composed himself, setting out into the street. It was dead silent, but all the same, he forced his face into its often worn naive, unassuming look, though now it twitched slightly with small hints of guilt.

"You bastard!" A voice came from behind him, echoing down the street.

He had come too far – he knew that long ago – but it was out of fear. If being scared made him a bastard, then so be it, but that meant everyone was as well. There was no guaranteeing you'd see the other side of this bloody war, but there _were _things you could do to give yourself an upper hand. He'd thought of James as a brother, but in the end, it was kill or be killed and James just happened to get the latter.

Peter hadn't realized that he had stopped cold in his tracks until he felt Sirius' tight grip on his shoulder, forcing him to face his actions.

"You sold them out!"

Sirius looked positively mad, in both senses of the word. Of course, Peter could blame him for that. He'd been angry with himself too, but the Dark Lord would have found some way at James and Lily no matter what, so why not gain his own safety in the process? Sirius' wand was pointed at his throat with a fierce sort of conviction. He could see that he would not give killing Peter another thought.

"Listen to me," Peter said, trying to keep calm. All of this would have been for nothing if he went and got his head cursed off.

"And to think we thought it was Remus who would sell us out." Peter flinched slightly as Sirius jabbed his wand painfully into his neck. "You always were the coward. I should have known."

He could hear the slight strain in Sirius' voice, like he was trying to hold himself together. If there was any chance to escape, Peter told himself, it would be soon. Slipping his wand out of his pocket, he flicked it slightly.

A small explosion came from behind Sirius, who turned quickly to it. Stepping quickly out of way of Sirius' wand, he backed his way toward the closest alley when a thought struck him. Maybe he could escape this _and _clear his name at the same time.

From left and right, muggles were emerging from their homes, hoping to see what had caused the disruption so late at night.

"Sirius, what're you doing!" he mustered all the innocence he could find into his voice. "Don't!"

With the faintest sign of a smirk on his face, he sent out another spell; this time, a far larger explosion rung out. He couldn't tell if he had hit his target, but amongst the faint cloud of dust, he couldn't see another soul still standing.

Quickly, almost as to surprise himself, he muttered a severing charm on his hand, flinching as he watched one of his fingers fall off. It was painful, yes, but if everyone thought him dead, the betrayal would be blamed on Sirius and he would be free. He mentally patted himself on the back for his own cleverness as he assumed his Animagus form and stole away into the darkened alleyway behind him.

But as he made it halfway down the alley, he heard a noise that chilled him to the bone. From back out in the open street came a loud, heart-wrenching laughing. Sirius Black – once one of Peter's very best friends, a man who trusted him with his whole heart – was laughing. But Peter knew it wasn't normal, it was the kind of laugh that came from someone so consumed with grief that they had fallen into madness.

It was the laughing of an innocent, broken man.


End file.
